


The Dragon Maiden Blessed by the Moon

by Bana_Bhuidseach



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Daenerys Appreciation Month, Daenerys Targaryen-centric, Dragons, Dragonstone, Episode AU: s08e06 The Iron Throne, Episode Fix-It: s08e06 The Iron Throne, Explicit Language, F/F, Feminist Themes, Fluff and Humor, Game of Thrones Spoilers, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, War, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bana_Bhuidseach/pseuds/Bana_Bhuidseach
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen will fight for her and her people. Will rebuild a home.She will learn what it actually means to break the wheel...





	1. It's the hardest thing. To begin.

**Author's Note:**

> Beautiful people. I wish I could express my anger and hatred to what they did to Daenerys as a character. Hopefully, this work helps me to express it and to heal. I wanted to turn a deep sadness into something happier and better and a bit vicious perhaps. I do not know where this story is going, what I'm gonna follow from the original version at the beginning and what I may change.  
> Asides from some obvious elements like a relationship between Yara & Daenerys. Jon not being a Targaryen and of course, Dany not turning mad nor dying.  
> My wishful heart desires the words take me into another path and this becomes a bit more independent *fingers crossed*  
> If you find enjoyment in any aspect of my writing I would be ecstatic. If not well I am writing this more to myself and please avoid to be rude or I will burn you. JK ... or am I?

A rippling splash. Scrapping, the planks groaned and sighed. Flap of wings and the thunder made by the Dothraki celebration. “Sorfosor*” “Land!” the view and sound of it incremented violent in rushed palpitations. The waves had become a part of her, the sea wind reverberated through her veins, feeding the ever running fire into a rich wildness. The instant she set foot the humming of the land cocooned her, provoking goosebumps, it knew she was back and called out to her in the ancient language like one of the sirens or ancient gods.

She wished she could take off her boots and step over the sand, embracing just like she did the flames, for her to let it in the physical and tangible to recognize her. She wished she could cry for a place that her memory could not cast. All the stories she heard instantly fell away, paling in comparison. Part of her felt ready, up to the challenge, part of her felt pure awe.  
The dragons, at a distance, screeched mirroring the loud staccato within her. She was home, she was going to fight. Transfixed by the castle that loomed over, old, constant, full of sorrow and pain. Cursed by dark and washed away momentums.  
\- - - - - -  
So many questions arose and left her sleepless. She will fly on Drogon’s back most of the night, above the cold clouds feeling for the first time the chilling wind and the sharpness of winter. Not even the highest of points could clear her head. There was a peculiar rawness she felt surrounded by it… Abandoning a safe space. Somewhere where the power that came out love and gratefulness was assured. Where she knew suffering and where she overcame it all, proving her power, her capability for love and hate, for being merciful and ruthless. The people were free and they had chosen. Here they seemed being crushed by politics that would never take them into consideration. On her long flights, she got glimpses of the world from afar, trying to comprehend how they lived, what were their needs or their hopes. The information either of her advisers could offer, she will find always lacking, they regarded mere strategy, which she was conscientious of needing. Yet how will that prepare her ahead, she couldn’t let it all aside in name of war. Ruling over before had meant a clean slate.

Breaking with all that was known, it was a situation of what had been rotted and its extraction. Now, it felt more complicated. She was here know in honor of her name, in honor of her legacy, to learn what home felt like, to regain her rightful place, her people and to be a fair ruler. She would prefer not to claim a throne over the mere fact of blood right.

No, I want them to know and trust me. My blood just propelled me yet why would I let it define who I was and define what could be good for others? I needed to know if I would be supported as many men used to whisper to my brother, later on to me trying to reassure and to gain a position. How could I voice out my concerns without showing weakness? The Greyjoy’s and the Tyrell seemed to be backing me up, they believed in a world without tyranny.  
——  
Every vestige left by the corruptors shall be burned to ashes. There shall be renewal.  
I slowly passed my fingers through the engraved stone, picturing the hands who carved them out. I’d brought back the legends stamped on the walls. The world gave my family a second chance of restoration. To make amends and not treat the blessing of my children, for something taken for granted. People saw them as prices, humans seem to act like that forgetting that we are not the masters and exploiters of it all. My family committed that mistake over many others  
Finally, after resting and restocking on supplies, we find ourselves able to assemble. I turn to the people that gathered around the table of the council room.

“Shall we begin?”

“My little birds have gathered some information, it seems like Cersei has lost a lot of power recently, the people do not know how to react, they do not know whom to follow…except for for..” Varys catches his tongue and formulates his next words “for, the North…”

“Always feisty those ones…” Olenna spits across the room.  
I pace around the map wishing our options of attack. “What do you mean?” I ask calmly stroking the wolf figurine over Winterfell

“They seem to have chosen a ruler, Your Grace, a King in the North…”

“I see… well that certainly can be taken as a threat”

Meanwhile, Tyrion takes long sips from his cup. “Any suggestions?”  
He is nervous, has been since we got here, running machinations over and over again. The pressure doesn’t seem to suit him now that the time has come. He finally takes a last sip and talks “Jon Snow is a reasonable man, besides I do think we can make him abdicate once he sees the true ruler has come”

“Then we shall talk to him at some point…” I look over at Yara she looks eager to find a fight “ what shall we do about your uncle?” She looks straight back at me with a mocking smirk. “I would rather love to sack his precious fleet and watch as one of our dragons eats him, Your Grace, or gut him myself…”

“Would we be able to do so?” I turn to the others.

“Right now they may be by the side of the Lannisters and would be rather hard to achieve such vengeful sentiments”

I arch an eyebrow “Aren’t we strong enough”

“It will be reckless…” Tyrion adds “A foolish uncalculated act, if we are to so prominently start a war. I would suggest to build up a strategy’

Yara then cuts in “well you offend us Lord Hand,” she says so with a heavy sarcastic tone “ are you implying we would just storm into King’s Landing? With no plan whatsoever? Show more respect to us and to your Queen”

He stammers

I want to laugh by looking at his face. “Forgive him. Sometimes my advisers forget they don’t serve as my brain”  
“I assure you that was not my intention.” Tyrion looks seriously appalled and Varys just keeps looking down  
Olenna seems amused by them almost shitting their pants “Ah smart men, always commit the same stupidity any normal one would…submitting into their horrendous entitlement”

\----

 

*Sorfosor is the Dothraki word for Earth, I do not know enough of the language but my research only gave me this word. I hope it works.*


	2. Dream

The sea kept its constant dance, going in highs and lows, in a patient waltz with the moon.

“I shall say I have a rather selfish plan” I confided to Missandei while walking over the sand. My feet are bare at last; Each stroke of water over them provoked a sweet sensation that expanded through my body. I huffed containing a giggle, then smiled at my best friend.

“What are such plans?”

“Just the one…- I started undoing my braids, worn out of the day, the strain of feeling everything packed up within me. All the rage and all the hope-When I shall retake the throne I want to build a place of my own. Where I may be able to enjoy and celebrate life. It certainly needs to have a garden. It shall be covered in plants and colors, alive, unlike the harsh stone- I look back at the fort~like palace- I am tired of stone and iron. Tired of dry or cold things. I know it is foolish to let myself think this way, we are at war after all…”

“I do not think it is foolish to value life and care for it. To wish for something better, no.”  
I hold her hand tightly and give her a smile.

“I want to prove that my fire doesn’t only destroy but it can also be the warm fire that protects or the one that creates. The one that gives light in a long night. The dragons, my children, they aren’t only power or tools. I do not want people to fear them but to realize their beauty.”

Ahead Drogon, Viserion and Rheagal within a cave the starlight barely clashes against one snout and makes the scales shine their own light.

“We should head back, I cannot hold you any longer from your bed…” My face betrays a tiny smirk and it is clear even if it’s dark that Missandei blushes a bit. “Besides we need to be ready for tomorrow”

Ready for Casterly Rock and High Garden. Ready for those who will fight against the Lannister army. My body tenses back thinking on it. The message for the supposed King in the North has been sent out as well. A Red Priestess had arrived a few days earlier. She had non stop insisted upon the meeting.  
\- - - - - - - -  
_Everyone seemed afraid of the fire when water could be so much worse… It was just as hungry knew no moderation. The night was full of a harrowing song. The wind whispered to the marrow of your bones, the waves spoke of jealousy and fought battles against the oceans prisoners, those never allowed to go back home. Supposedly she had been born in such an ominous night as this. For her, the land kept celebrating in its own unpredictable ways to celebrate her. Yet, yet, yet…was she welcome?_

_“They do not what to believe in.. In who to believe… they might hate Cersei but that doesn’t mean they love. Why should they?” I wished I could rip the power from the lion, burn down its strength. A corrosive feeling of hatred palpitated just like the storm outside. I tried to ignore it, to tend it. It was always expecting beyond a door. Waiting, for the right moment. It had only to cost the blood of my enemies, never of innocent people._

_Tyrion voiced out my inner concerns “You can’t be the queen of the ashes.”_

_Thunder lit the room and a strong gust of wind made the torches tremble._

_“Varys… please do tell, what can be for the best?, I need someone to tell me do you find me failing in any way?”_

_“_ _No, Your Majesty, I do not think as far as things have gone.”_

_“And Varys..”_

_“Yes?”_  
_“Would you tell me?’_

_“I beg your pardon?”_

_“Would you tell me if I am ever failing in judgment? Or would you just betray me and find a new head for the crown?”_

_I fix my gaze straight to the man, knowing extremely well he could be a weak link for my purposes, even if so far he had proven himself useful. I knew such easy offered help could be taken just as fast._

_“I assure you, Your Majesty…” Tyrion speaks up “That Lord Varys has been nothing but loyal”_

_“To whom are you loyal exactly? Yourself?”_

_“To the people, to the kingdom, representatives come and go, they may be great, they may be selfish and cruel. They might have no interest in ruling at all. Yet the people has to go through it all”_

_“Well, I am glad they can find a voice in you” I look out into the crashing tide giving my back to everyone in the room._

_Cold takes root over my skin. Something is calling out. I blink once, twice and spot a dark figure, it seems almost insubstantial, leaving a ghostly aura behind. My eyes barely adjust, another thunder falls upon the horizon and the figures vanishes, spreading through the drops of rain and the howling wind. The wind seems to be saying something, not quite coherent and cannot catch any meaning to it. I hear the crying of a baby, then screams, the flapping of wings and warriors crying out, others celebrating. The trance_

_I’ve fallen into has left my body feeling strange. Extremely aware of every sound yet detached._

_“Breaker of Chains” a musky unknown voice brings me back._

_I turn and see Greyworm in front of a woman apparently still with words midway, trying to introduce her. The seeming priestess seems to have spoken first._

_The woman doesn’t bow, nor would I ask her to. She smells of amber and sandalwood. Her whole appearance seems to be untouched by the mayhem outside, no droplet of water has touched not even the hem of her cloak. “I am honored to be in your presence…I must confess once I served another who wished for the Iron Throne, yet the tendrils of life have finally crossed and changed” She has been looking directly at me for a long time, yet just as she finishes her last sentence her gaze analyses the rest of the people there, fixing on Varys “We all seem to have been called out to serve someone better for the cause”. Then returning to me. “We try as best we can to redeem our mistakes..” The Master of Whisperers spits with a subtle venom. My conversation with him was not over, yet it will have to continue later, I shoot him a look and he immediately comprehends, vows and goes to a corner of the room._

_The woman starts speaking in High Valyrian *_

_“Dārȳs Daenerys. Dohaeriros istin, sindita liortā, qilonta ozbartā. Riglose Belmot Pryjati rhaenan.”_

_“_ _Meli Voktyssy Mīrīnī lyks mazverdagon beldis. Kesīr drējī jiorilaks. Skoroso jemele brōzia?” I answered, the words rolling out from my mouth with certain appreciation. The richness of it, feeling my tongue a making a different journey than it did with the others. The Dothraki language was hard and strong, poetic in a sense like the thumping of the heart. As for Valyrian it was like the stream of veins, the flowing blood._

_“Melisandrose brōziks-then she changes again- I have come to fulfill my real quest, people may not entirely care over here on the Lord of Light but he does for them…we all need something to hold our light and love. To fill us up with purpose.”_

_“Bosys bantis amāzis, se morghor zijomy amāzis. Meri kīvio dārilaros ōz maghagon kostas”_

_“The prince that was promised”_

_“If you permit me - Missandei cuts in- but the noun is gender neutral, Your Majesty”_

_“We must be wary of prophecies your grace.” Melisandre seems to have learned the hard way, there are regret and a sense of deep sadness as well as anger. The wind keeps blowing, the fire at the hearth increases. “ We are all part of the process, especially you and one other”_

_I arch my eyebrow in impatience. What exactly does this woman wish from me?_

_“For the night that has started to fall over the world to come to an end. I must say you must summon Jon Snow”_

_The king in the north…_

_“For what I’ve heard of him he sounds like quite the man.”_

_“There are things that may seem behind comprehension, yet who but you can believe in destiny?”_

_Visions from the past, dreams that come haunt me in the night, and that keep haunting my heart seem to be emanating from my skin, but they are things I can only see. I see a starless sky. A moon with no life. A frozen garden, my dragons rotted and dead. I shiver._

_“Varys…”_

_Before I detach once more into a dream world_

_“Yes your grace?”_

_“Send a message to the supposed King in the North. For he must come immediately. Make sure he understands he cannot refuse to come”_

_After ordering a room for the priestess I leave to my chambers. And stare at the flames. Remembering the pyre, remembering the witch and some long forgotten pain. The sound of the flip of a coin, Drogon’s wings. A screech._  
\-----

The next morning all pretended to be calm and it was, as well as for the next couple of days. I checked on my men, concerned about the brusque changes of the environment we had all experienced, they were fighters and they were tough I knew as much, but they weren't senseless. So I made sure they were having the right provisions. I gave them a speech just so they wouldn't doubt the cause, we fought to defend the country from those that wanted to hurt it or were too selfish to care for its demise. I reminded them never to lose control nor attack the innocent. No spoils of war. I told them about my travels during the night from which I had expected my advisers to launch over me speaking of being careful, they did not. I told what I've seen, from fear to happiness, from hunger and cold to a brimming hope on some. They were what mattered everyone deserved to feel protected in their homeland, I promised to stop the uncanny feeling I too suffered. I would like to continue the travels but they weren't such a great idea. 

The Dothraki seemed restless to fulfill their promise to me. I remembered the hard time passed on the boats. 

"Well glad to know something can beat them off..." Yara once whispered to me. We had private talks once in a while. Both of us comprehended what it was like to fight for our right, we both knew what the other was capable of, our strengths and the hardships we've endured. I knew she respected me. I respected her, even appreciated her dry humor and her easy laugh. When we were not busy in rare moments we will begin to confess our secrets. The superficial ones at the very least. 

It was a fickle world after all. 

But sometimes when I looked at her, I not only felt understood. I already had built up that kind of trust with Missandei. It was different. A secretive tug over the corner of my lips that threatened to soften me towards her. And now I feared that she had to go away. 

\--- 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I decided to take the dialogue out of the episode 7x03 “Stormborn” and not change the main idea of it, since I do not speak High Valyrian as much as I would love to, please bear with me I am aware so far it isn’t changing most, but I want this to be the base so I may continue. Asides from that the Varys situation shall be dragged into more conversations since of course for the run time of the show all felt rushed but well you already know that.
> 
> *Also Daenerys isn’t going crazy, I just want to introduce some subtle (not so subtle) aspects of magic, this may not be faithful to the way it works in the books or the show.


	3. Shelter...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire and rain seem to start reaching in the dark...

The Dragon’s lay resting outside their cave after flying almost all through the chilling morning. The scorched earth crackled under my foot. My finger ached still unaccustomed to the cold. And I still hadn’t gone far north. I passed them over Rhaegal’s scales, feeling him breathe, suddenly feeling Drogon’s head nudging my shoulder slightly, demanding attention. “I will not permit foolish jealousy” I look back at him and give a smile. I sit surrounded by them, listening to every move they make. Finding peace on the combination of feelings from the cold emanating from the sea and being carried by the wind to the warm of their breaths. It lulls me. Letting loose the strain for a minute or two brings the mental and physical fatigue to surface. When all that settles, then comes the bubbling energy of expectation and dread. My allies and my men are leaving in a few more hours, to battle, to reclaim what is ours. I am confident they shall succeed. I close my eyes already listening to the screams of battle, a chill going up on my spine from the clash of metal, the trickling of blood.

The Greyjoys are leaving as well, the chill spreads down to my arms and legs. Yara… I hear steps approaching. My body suffers a weird sensation and a shiver. I maintain my eyelids closed, recognizing all too well the noises she makes. Irrepressible goosebumps make me tremble.

“I wouldn’t think the incarnation of fire would ever be cold…”

I smirk. Of course, only she would approach without any kind of ceremony or any kind of fear for my children. _“Oh I respect them, but hey are beautiful and formidable, it will be a shame to fear them”_ She had said once while looking at them fly over the water, drenching their wings into the water, diving and turning.

“Even fire needs some kindling” I open my eyes, she’s standing right in front of me touching almost leaning over one side of Viserion, he doesn’t seem bothered or interested for that matter. We stare at each other like so many times before, the look says I am glad you are her and also says I would love to fight you right now, physically.

“Maybe I can be of some assistance on that matter…Your Grace…” She lowers her tone at the last two words, showing some kind of reverence.

“I told you, you didn’t have to call me like that, even less if we are alone, I do not desire for such a wall between us…” The blood in y veins starts to heat up, for the tone she used. I hope the cold functions as an excuse. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“We are almost done, besides I relied on the more annoying matters to Theon” An evil smile spreads across her face “He can handle it” She starts to pace. Drogon is observing her with one eye closed. He had fallen asleep. His gaze wasn’t tally up guard. “They are starting to like me” By the way she holds up her head she seems to have achieved a great accomplishment. The wind makes her hair brush her face and fly in every direction. It reminds me of the past months traveling. Her secure poise, strong and cocky; Reassuring the men under her command, emanating a living force only matched by the depthless ocean, were monsters and ancient myths dwell. Her voice carrying out into the storms, being a hurricane itself.

Right now she looks calm and stagnant, expecting to unleash vengeful wrath against the man that stole her birthright. I hope she sinks him down, right after making him pay in life.

“I wish I could accompany you…” I whisper and she still hears it.

For a moment she seems to measure her words. “Me too, I would love to see m uncle shitting his pants right before seeing his float burn” Her eyes shine with determination and a secret wickedness which I rather enjoy, for sometimes it is the reflection of my own when I think of my enemies. I stand up and walk towards her, looking up to her.

“Make sure to still burn him down in my name and tell me everything about it when we meet again” She approaches a couple of inches, whispering into my ear.

“I won’t spare any detail” I can feel her breath when she scoffs and then retreats to a more marked distance. “I shall have my Isles by the time I get back and perhaps a marriage proposal if it is to your liking” She is using a teasing tone while she says it.

“Do you think you may be capable enough to fulfill such compromise?” I arch an eyebrow.

“That would be for you to decide, I can prove it every day” She retorts, she seems set to go with one foot behind her yet she seems reluctant to leave.

“We still got time… no need to rush…come let’s …” Every activity seems dull and weak, unable to smother the anxious feeling that is growing at my gut. Deep worry; I wouldn’t only be losing an important ally, but a friend, the word tasted funny at the back of my throat forming like bile.

She takes me by the arm “Shall we explore?” her eyes fixed on mine.

“Where would you suggest we do something as childish?”

“Oh but my queen you offend me…” She feigns to be aghast.

“Stop that” I pull my arm but she resists and so we walk away from the cave with three sets of eyes following our tail. We climb over a set of rocks, then pass under some. Almost tripping over wet sand and sea creatures. I let out a laugh “It is dark how am I suppose to see anything”

Between giggles and a hardened grip, she mumbles “Then just light up the way” I scoff loudly.

All this feels strange, unhinged and great. I am strong and determined regarding what I want. Yet even if I burn and purify the fire is never set into the wild, never in a cheerful way. Tiny moments like these or the ones with my dragons are the ones when I let it spread and start to flow out. It is hard, it seems to lie dormant within an egg of its own and the shell is extremely hard and no external factor has been strong enough to shatter it completely. Not that I can permit myself the luxury of self-indulgence, that would come later I kept promising myself. Later… or now. A secret moment.

We come out into a tiny beach surrounded by tiny peninsulas. Hidden from the rest, hidden from view. “I haven’t spotted this place, not even while flying over” Yara lets go of my arm and the cold settles back.

“Probably you just regard it as insignificant, it is pretty small after all.” Her hands caress the wet rocks, with fossilized shells. “Perhaps there are more dragon eggs petrified under salt and sand, unknown to the world and expecting”

“One could only hope…” I look at the wall trying to imagine a hidden world behind it.

The tide reaches us softly hugging our calves for a second. Even while wearing boots I am capable of feeling it. Then comes a second wave wilder and tougher than its predecessor. It clashes against us up to our knees. Yara lets out a cheerful, would dare to call it silly, scream.

We sit over a rock back to back. She revises her plan with me and I listen. Time passes. I talk to her about recurrent dreams and noises I have been experiencing; I even voice out that I am a bit scared of turning like my father. She smiles.

“What is so funny?”

“The idea of you, as strong and stubborn, especially kind. Into a ruthless person. No, that will never happen, even if you feel a bit off or disoriented, you will find the right way.” A knot forms at my throat. “As for the dreams and other stuff, maybe you are just reacting to the whole situation or sensing beyond what it is currently present…I do not know much about it but, perhaps you should speak to the Red Lady”

“Perhaps.” She bends and draws nonsense over the sand, then suddenly looks up and runs knee deep into the water.

“What is it?”

She seems to pick up something and pocket it. “A charm” then comes back humming an old song. “We should head back, or my men might think I have abandoned them with my brother and probably throw him overboard” She seems to rejoice at the idea.

“Yeah, I should go back to, to say a proper farewell, besides they might start wondering where I am”

We walk back in silence but before reaching the float and the fort. She stops, “Here” over her palm there is a tiny sea snail shell. Worn out by many tempests, I take it and turn it around, the inside is a metallic composition of a light cream brown, pearled grey and soft white spots that seldom reminded me of a barely touched by stars sky. It shines just as the dragon scales. “For luck against anything tangible or not..” I smile and thank her really softly.

Then remember I have something for her as well, a scale from Viserion since it is her favorite. It is a deep cobalt blue. “For luck, and for your fires to blaze bright and true. I know you will do great in battle so no need to feed even more your ego” She gives me a crooked sweet smile, then makes a pretend bow and storms off.

I walk to the spot where Missandei, The Red Priestess and Tryion wait. “Where is Varys?” “Sending off letters” My hand never leaves his gaze from the Unsullied who are forming. Greyworm is giving out orders. I can tell Missandei is suffering a culmination of feelings which I will ask later in private. She is holding back tears so I grab her hand, even if mine is a bit shaky as well. We see them setting off.

The Red Priestess sends off a prayer and retires. Tyrion goes back to the council room and to drink.

My friend and I wait until the sun sets and the horizon is almost empty.


End file.
